


Leggings Pt. III

by queenhomeslice



Series: Leggings [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, Body Dysphoria, Body Positivity, Eating Disorder, Famous!Prompto, M/M, Modeling, Promptis - Freeform, Smut, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, anxious!Prompto, exercise obsession, healthy eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 15:11:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17942066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: Summary: Serious stuff happens here! Prepare to be in your Feelings. Prom battles his actual exercise obsession and potential eating disorders and the effects of intermediate fame. Noctis is literally Prince Charming. Prom finally gets on the Crownsguard and he gets better. Ignis is a body-positive champion, fight me.(Eventual Throne Sex, just bear with the exposition first, I love you guys. Also I don’t know how to write Cor, so. A person more familiar with his character is free to give me edit suggestions, don’t hesitate.)Hey look! I found the plot again!





	Leggings Pt. III

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way. 
> 
> Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum 
> 
> Time frame: Just after high school, pre-game canon 
> 
> A/N: I have not personally played the game, but I have watched my husband play it twice, so I’m fairly familiar with characters and etc.; however, there are bound to be things that I get wrong. I’m 500% Prompto trash. 
> 
> To avoid copyrights and out-of-world canon and whatever, I’m making up names for social media/magazines in this story. So, the equivalents are roughly:  
> PixtaGram = Instagram  
> UVid = Youtube  
> Eye of Lucis = gossip magazine, like The National Enquirer  
> Athletica Now, Weekly Runner’s Digest = your typical health nut/exercise enthusiast magazines, new trends in the world of diet and exercise, etc.  
> RideShare = Uber, Lyft, etc.  
> Coleman is fine because that’s actually game canon, don’t @ me, lol 
> 
> I’ve hinted at it in the past two stories but honestly, major TW for body dysphoria/eating disorders/obsession with exercising/unhealthy food relationships

The first time Noctis saw Prompto on a billboard, he screamed so hard that Ignis nearly threw them into the other lane of rush-hour traffic and Noctis’ ears burned for the next hour with the dripping poison from Ignis’ chastisement. That had been nearly two months ago, and there was little sign of him stopping his slow takeover of Insomnia’s affluent outdoorsy community. He was everywhere, from Coleman ads (showing him running to a fake family, camping chair in tow, on the top of some photoshopped mountain landscape) to sports ads (did Prompto even remember how to play basketball?) to websites, where he could be seen in every iteration of his favorite brand of running leggings, showing off dozens of styles and colors and promising that you could be just like him if you had a hundred gil to spare.

It wasn’t that Noctis wasn’t happy, but...Prompto had been a relative nobody, a dorky kid who had taken years to work up the nerve to even  _talk_ to Noctis, pursuing only a few niche interests in high school like track, photography, and STEM classes. Now he was the face of some of the city’s biggest athletic brands, the winner of a half-marathon (his social media profile picture was of him wearing the fake plastic laurels, draped with a medal and the checkered finish line ribbon, and holding trophy that probably weighed as much as he did), and the public was  _looking_ at him, _admiring_ him, and Noctis felt as though dark green jealousy and tainted black possessiveness was as prevalent in his body as red blood cells. 

Prompto, on the other hand, hadn’t let his newfound fame alter him one bit. Noctis was used to attention, being in the news almost weekly (“Prince Noctis Caught Fishing in Remote Pond in South Insomnia,” “Prince Noctis Receives Speeding Ticket, Goes to Court Like Normal Person,” or whatever low-quality journalism  _Eye on_ _Lucis_ had to display that week), but Prompto had taken all of this in literal strides. “Dude, it’s whatever, I’ve actually started to turn down new contracts and stuff, it’s pretty exhausting,” he’d said at their last arcade date, where Noctis, again, had gotten his ass beat in _Trapped in Space 3: Tactical Alien Warfare._ He had everything he ever wanted, Prompto had assured him. Since becoming Noct’s best friend in sophomore year, his life had been complete, and he had been perfectly happy with Noctis and video games and amateur photography, he’d said. 

“All this other stuff is just fluff, you know how trends go. No one will remember me in like, six months, and it’s cool. I’m a flash in the pan. As long as  _you_ like me, I really don’t give a shit about anyone else.” And Prompto had laughed and pulled Noctis into a deep, hot kiss that’d led to more interesting things than the latest issue of  _Athletica_ _Now_  and overpriced tennis shoes ads.  

The other thing about the whole “Prompto is an amateur celebrity athlete” business was his UVid channel, where, like PixtaGram, his follower count had risen tremendously over the past couple of months. His video game reviews and walkthroughs were being republished on official game developer sites, and he’d been selected as a beta tester for new games, specifically first-person shooters and tactical RPGs, which excited him much more than hours-long magazine photo shoots. He’d started to review workout gear, too, and endorse the vitamins and health foods that he loved so much. Noctis, determined to still show the world that Prompto belonged to  _h_ _im_ , had modded and hacked his own computer to track Prompto’s videos and upvote them and comment first on all of them. It was a simple message from his fairly empty UVid account, but there was no mistaking the username or the verified status of  __XprincenoctX_ ___ commenting “Great work, Prompto!” first on everything that  _quicksilver1357_ uploaded. And of course, there was always a cheeky reply of “Thanks so much Prince Noctis, I’m your biggest fan!” from Prompto’s username. They would always laugh about it later, right before making love after Ignis would finally leave them alone at Noct’s apartment.

Prompto had to cut back on hours at the trendy photography studio, much to his dismay. His boss, however—a guy who’d actually helped develop the Loxton brand cameras—was always asking him to come in even when he wasn’t scheduled, because people were showing up just to see Prompto: some too-skinny middle-school kid who’d just started track and wanted an autograph; or some shy, overweight high-school girl who was blushing so hard she could’ve actually been painted red, asking him for diet tips because she hated herself; and those are the ones that always cut him to the core, and he’d always cry when he got home, and he’d order junk food and binge and he told himself that it was okay, he was healthy, fried cheese sticks and a milkshake wouldn’t hurt; and five minutes later he’d throw it all up, go out for a jog, and eat a half-salad at the overpriced coffee shop a few blocks away, apple cider vinegar-based salad dressing burning his raw throat as he choked down the greens and sniffed back quiet tears. 

 

Ignis was the first, actually, to notice that something might be wrong when Gladio’s birthday approached and Prompto spent almost the whole night in the corner of the small ballroom in the Citadel sitting on a chair, drinking water, sweating and shaking.

His eyes were glassy and he was taking very shallow breaths. He’d had one bite of Noctis’ cupcake and it had almost made him sick to his stomach. He was just trying to keep his composure when the royal adviser sidled up next him with quiet compassion.

“Prompto, are you all right? You look very unwell.” 

“I’m uh, I’m okay, Igster. I’m just tired. I had a few radio interviews today and I’m just worn out.” He faked a grin. “Go mingle with all these hoity-toity types. I’m on the outside looking in here, anyway.” He set his water glass down on the floor. 

Ignis pursed his lips and looked down at Prompto over his glasses. He’d been around him long enough to know when he wasn’t being honest, and he also wasn’t stupid when it came to food. “Your blood sugar is low.” 

“Wait, wha...what are you talking about?” 

“What have you eaten today?” 

“Uh. Three boiled eggs, half a salad, two prairie-style skewers, a kale smoothie, water.” He paused. “A bite of Noct’s cupcake.” 

“By the Astrals, Prompto. You’re starving yourself.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“What you just listed is what Gladio could eat every two hours. Or sooner.” 

“Gladio is a god-tier warrior, Ignis. I’m like, a baby chocobo compared to him.” 

“You want to be healthy, yes?” 

“In case you haven’t noticed.” Prompto paused to breathe. “I’m like, the face of health in Insomnia right now. How’s that for the ultimate downfall headline? ‘Health Star Prompto Argentum Has an Eating Disorder.’ You’re getting ahead of yourself, dude.” 

Ignis sighed. “I’m just saying that you need to be careful. I know that you realize that to keep running, you need to feed your body the proper nutrients. Dieting for losing weight is one thing, though I’ve always been solely against that. I believe body diversity is wonderful and good. Large athletes exist, you know. They key is health. You need to maintain the proper diet for your running or your body is going to give out.” 

Prompto snorted and folded his shaky arms, hanging his head in denial. “Easy for you to say. You don’t know where I’ve come from. You’ve been svelte your whole fuckin’ life. I bet you could eat a whole chocolate cake and lose five pounds while doing it.” 

“I have a general idea about your past, you know. And while I cannot personally relate to your struggles, I  _can_  tell you that Prince Noctis would still be in love with you if your pants size were double what it is now.” Ignis looked away from him and into the festive party crowd.  

Prompto laughed a doubtful “Ha,” and said, “Look, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” 

“Noctis wants you to be happy and healthy. And don’t you want to be that for him?”  

Prompto bit his lip and looked up, scanning the crowd for Noctis, his blurry vision finally settling on the prince clapping Gladio on the shoulder. Noct was dressed in black suit jacket and pants, black dress shirt, and gray tie printed with the Lucian crest. His hair was still uncombed, sticking up in all its crazy points, and he was bright-eyed and laughing and holding a half-full glass of imported champagne. He sighed, then turned to Ignis, whose gaze had settled back on him. “What.” 

“I know when you’re lying.” 

“Ignis, I get it. You’re...very smart,” he choked out. He  _r_ _eally_ didn’t feel good.  

“I’m driving you home.” 

“No, you don’t have to, I can RideShare, or call a cab, Iggy. Please. Don’t do anything special for me.” He felt himself lean to the side a little. He closed his eyes so the room would stop spinning. 

“That’s it.” Ignis held out a hand to steady him and turned in the direction of Noctis, who, thankfully, had wandered closer to the corner where they were. “Noct!” Ignis called, firmly but not too loudly. 

The prince was  _trained_  on Ignis’ voice and accent, and it was almost like he was supersonically attuned to hear him, even in a crowd. He whipped his head and saw Ignis and Prompto seated in a far corner, on the perimeter of the ballroom, the retainer holding up a slightly slumped blond in a borrowed designer suit. Noctis gasped and shoved his champagne flute at the nearest person, not even looking to see if it was a server, and bolted across the room.  

“What’s wrong? Prompto!” Noctis knelt down beside his chair. 

The grief in his voice cut Ignis to the core. Would Prompto ever know how much he actually cared about him? “Highness, I think he’s just experiencing a case of low blood sugar.” 

“Come again.” 

Ignis pushed his glasses up. “He simply hasn’t eaten enough. In fact, if my guesses are correct, I’d go so far as to say that he never eats enough. You might want to get him to talk to the family’s nutritionist, Noct.” 

 _The royal family has a nutritionist? Of course they do._  “ ‘M fine,” Prompto whispered, opening his eyes slightly. “Gods, Noct, you look so hot right now.” 

“Shut up, now’s not the time,” though he couldn’t help but blush at the comment. “Prom, please. You need to eat something. Ignis, go get him a soda. That should get some sugar in him fast so he can actually focus on eating.” 

“Nooooo, no sugar, not gooooood” Prompto whined, but he felt himself getting too weak to protest any further.

Ignis was away and back with superhuman speed, carrying a can of cherry-flavored carbonation in his hand. He popped the top, stuck in a straw that he withdrew from his pocket and brought it to his lips. “Drink, Prompto.” 

When he refused, Noctis frowned. “Prom, I hate to do this, buddy, but. Royal decree. Right fucking now. I order you to drink this whole can of soda.”

Prompto narrowed his eyes at him and pouted, but opened and closed his mouth around the straw and began to suck, making a twisted face as his body was inundated with more sugar in a few minutes than he’d had in the past six months combined.  

As Prompto slowly recovered—he was sitting up again, and not shaking—Gladio, the man of the hour, approached them. “Hey, Blondie, you okay? You look pretty pale. Too much Tenebraen whiskey?” He smirked.  

Noctis shook his head. “He crashed because he barely fucking ate today. But I bet he ran ten miles, huh?” He shot him a look.  

Prompto glared back at Noctis. “So what if I did.” 

“Don’t do this, Prom.” 

“Why the fuck is everyone on my case?” Prompto stood up but he felt blood rush to his head; he whined and grimaced in pain, and sat back down on wobbly legs.  

Noctis gestured painfully. “See?” 

“Hey dude. I know you’re like, a health nut and this new diet celebrity, but man, you gotta eat.” Gladio knelt on his knees in front of him. “You want me to help you come up with a plan? I know how to treat muscles right.” He flexed a bicep and Ignis and Noctis chuckled.  

Prompto suddenly teared up. “I don’t...I can’t get fat again. I can’t...I have to...stay small...” And he lost it. 

Noctis was on the side of him in an instant, cradling his sobbing, sick boyfriend in his arms. He pulled him close and shot Ignis a look that dared him to say anything about PDA. He buried his face in the blond hair that was too full of product, yet somehow still soft and welcoming. “Prompto,” he breathed into his hair.

Prompto held on for dear life as the sobs wracked him, months of pent-up anxiety coming out on Gladio’s  _birthday_  of all days, and boy, that made him feel like a worse piece of shit than usual. He didn’t know how long Noctis held him or how long he’d cried, but eventually, he felt himself calming down enough to maybe sit up, and he wasn’t feeling so light-headed anymore, and he had to push away the voice that told him he’d need to exercise again to work off the calories of the sugary beverage Ignis had forced down his throat. He shifted, and he felt Noctis shift beneath him. He sat up.  

Noct was looking at him desperately, his own eyes watery and red. “Why is staying in shape so important to you?” 

“Be...because,” Prompto sniffed. “You don’t deserve a fat, stupid friend. And that’s who I was as a kid. And when Lady Lunafreya wrote to me, asking me to befriend you, I knew I had to make myself worthy of you. I trained for that damn marathon because I wanted to be fast for  _you,_ Noct. To get you out of danger, if I ever have to. To protect you, to be good for  _you._ Everything I’ve ever done in my life, since you came into it, has been for you. And it’s all I care about. You’re...you’re really all I care about. I love you so much that it makes me forget how much I hate myself.” 

Noctis’ nostrils flared in anger. “Is that what you think? That I wouldn’t like you if you were fat?” 

Prompto kind of shrank back, ashamed. “I, I just wanted to be like you...like them.” He gestured to the schmoozing nobility of the room. “Thin and pale and pretty.” He hung his head. “I guess...it speaks more to how I think than how you think. I know you’re not cruel. I know looks don’t matter to you.”  

“You know they don’t.” Noctis leaned forward and put his hand on the side of Prompto’s cheek. “Hey. Look at me.” 

Prompto turned, his freckled face flushed and blue eyes rimmed with red, pointed nose dripping with snot. He felt it and sniffed, embarrassed, but he laughed.  

Noctis smiled at him. “You are, literally, the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I may be a prince but that doesn’t mean my life has been easy.” 

Prompto nodded. He knew about everything. He traced the outline of the scar on Noctis’ back all the time when they were in bed together, whispering about how beautiful it made him look.  

“So, if you respect me as not only your prince but your best friend, and something more...if you love me, Prom...let me help you.” 

Prompto wiped his eyes. His stomach growled. “Y-yeah. Okay. Yeah. I guess...I guess I could eat more...” 

“That’s a start,” said Ignis.  

Prompto’s shoulders twitched in surprise. He’d forgotten that Iggy was even there. He looked to the other side of Noctis; Gladio had taken up a chair two seats away from him, still close enough to be a comforting presence. “Hey big guy?” 

“Yeah Blondie?” Gladio leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.  

“Would you, ah. Help me, with eating? Like, really, nutrition. And stuff.” 

Gladio smiled widely. “Sure thing! We’ll get you beefed up and fed in no time. But, you owe me something in return.” 

“Oh, I mean, I can pay you, I’m on the other side of financially stable now, thanks to all these little modeling contracts.” 

The Shield shook his head. “That’s not what I mean.” 

Prompto cocked an eyebrow.  

“You have to start lifting weights with me, three times a week.” 

“What? Dude, I don’t know if my schedule will allow that!” 

“Tsk tsk. You gotta make time, man. Cut your jog route in half and come to the Citadel in the hours you would’ve spent still running. You want to get stronger for Noct? Being fast is good but what if he gets hurt and you have to carry or drag him somewhere?” 

Noct snorted. “You act like I’m the heaviest thing on Eos, Gladio.” He leaned back and folded his arms. “And you act like I’m a damsel in distress who gets kidnapped every week.” 

“Tensions with Niflheim are getting worse; we can never be too careful. You’re compact dead weight, Noct. I’ve had to carry you before, and so has Ignis. We don’t have a problem. But if Blondie here wants to help shoulder that responsibility, he needs to train more than just his legs.” 

Prompto snickered. “’Shoulder’ the responsibility, good one.”  

Gladio chuckled, glad to see the light and warmth returning to the smaller blond’s eyes. “So, do we have a deal?” 

“Sure, Gladio. Thank you. I’m sorry...I’m sorry I’ve ruined your birthday...” 

“Nah, you haven’t ruined anything! I’ve had loads of fun. You unhappy means Noct unhappy, which means a miserable little shit who doesn’t focus on training. So, whatever it takes to help you, short stuff.” Gladio smirked and cut eyes at the prince, who stared, mouth open in shock.  

“You’re really mean, you know that?” Noctis huffed.

 

Prompto had been too emotional to go home that evening after the festivities, so naturally—after eating a hearty Ignis-approved dinner—he retreated with Noctis to his room in the palace. He and Noctis fell asleep while cuddling, but after just a few hours, Prompto woke up and was restless. He threw on a borrowed pair of pajamas, pocketed his security clearance badge, and began to pace the castle, walking slowly up and down the halls, in and out of ballrooms, greeting the nighttime Glaives standing watch at different points. It was okay, they assured him, just to walk around if he was restless. It was a quiet night and he was a welcomed guest.  

Prompto had made his way to the throne room and he was standing around in awe, looking at the ancient banners and architecture, when he heard quiet footsteps behind him. He flinched instinctively, ready to get in trouble.  

“Hey, you okay?” 

Prompto turned. “Noct? Holy crap, since when do you wake up at 3 am?” 

“When I get really cold in bed, and when I feel helpless about you.” 

Prompto sniffed. “Gods, I’m such a fucking screw-up, Noct. I can’t do anything right.” He wiped his eyes.  

“Hey.” Noctis crossed the room over to him and wrapped him in a warm embrace and buried his face in the pale, freckled neck.  

Prompto held back tears as he melted into Noctis. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” 

“Prom,” Noctis whispered. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Let the guys and I help you.” 

“I just want to be strong for you.” 

“You already are.” 

Prompto didn’t know how long they stood like that, but eventually, the warm comfort of Noctis turned into something else as the warmth spread down his abdomen and below his belly button. He heard Noctis groan softly as Prompto pressed his groin up against him.  

Noctis shuddered at the contact. He pulled away a little and met Prompto’s eyes, which were red and wet, but looking at him with disbelief, as if he still couldn’t fathom that he was a part of the prince’s life in any capacity. Prompto smirked a little shyly.  

“We, uh. We don’t have to.” 

Noctis inhaled sharply. “Shut up. You know I want to.” 

“Okay,” Prompto breathed, anticipation building between his legs. He started to pull away to walk back down the long halls to the bedroom.  

Noctis grabbed his wrist, the one that was ever covered in a few thin layers of white athletic tape. “No,” he said, his voice heavy with arousal now. “Here.” 

Prompto’s pupils dilated. “In here? Dude are you sure? What if we get caught, or...” 

“I have this fantasy,” Noctis interrupted.  

Prompto fell silent, and that switch flipped in him, and he grinned at Noctis, eager to hear what the prince had to say.  

The change in Prompto’s demeanor only spurred Noctis on to hurry up and fuck him already.  _Gods,_ the sight of his best friend in his own pajamas was almost as arousing as the compression leggings. “Uh,” said Noctis, suddenly breathless. “I want to fuck you on the throne.” 

Prompto almost came in his pants as soon as the words left Noctis’ lips. “Holy shit, dude.” 

Noctis looked away and rubbed his neck, face flushed and cock pulsing with want.  

Prompto stepped close to him again, and freed his wrist from the prince’s grasp. He brought his hands to either side of his face and lifted his head and kissed him hard, tongue not asking permission as he assaulted Noctis’ mouth.  

Noctis moaned as he pushed himself up against Prompto, and then they hastily pulled away after a few minutes as Noctis grabbed Prompto’s hand and led him up the steps to the imposing iron chair.  

Noctis sat and spread his legs wide, cock making a tent in his loose-fitting flannel pants.  

Prompto grinned. “Hey Your Highness, is that a sword, or...” 

“Prom, please,” Noctis closed his eyes. “No time. Need your mouth on me.” 

He let out a low chuckle. It was funny how many words Noctis could eliminate from his vocabulary when he was being impatient. “Your wish is my command, Prince Noctis.” Prompto licked his lips and knelt down in front of Noctis, lifting his hips up so he could slide his pants and boxers down. Noctis’ cock sprang to attention and Prompto ever so slowly put his lips to the velvet head and kissed it.  

Noctis let out a moan that threatened to wake the entire Citadel. He instinctively gripped Prompto’s hair and pumped his hips into Prompto’s mouth as the blond expertly worked his tongue over him, using just the right amount of teeth, taking in his dick to the base and running his tongue along the underside, pushing against the veins, massaging his balls with one free hand and using the other to trace light patterns on the inside of his thigh.  

Prompto was hard and aching now, and since Noctis was definitely in a begging position, he assumed his usual control. He let the prince go with a pop, earning him another moan. He stood and dropped his own clothing as Noctis opened his eyes to watch what was happening. He pulled the foreskin back on himself and threw back his head in desire, then climbed onto the throne himself, straddling Noctis as his knees adjusted to the cold of the seat.  

Noctis kissed him again as he grabbed both of their cocks and pumped them a few times, making Prompto’s hips buck forward. Their mouths caught each others’ moans, but after a few minutes, Prompto steadied Noctis’ hand.  

Prompto leaned to the side of Noctis’ ear and whispered low. “Let me fuck you, Noct.” 

Noctis’ breath hitched in his throat and he nodded, vision blurry with lust as his fantasy played out.  

Prompto positioned himself above Noctis, and after getting the prince’s cock lubed up with saliva, he slowly sank down onto him, taking him in his entirety after a few minutes of letting himself adjust to the sudden intrusion.  

“Fuck, fuck, Prom, you feel so fucking good...” Noctis had to remember to breathe as he pumped in and out of Prompto, the blond matching his strokes with a rocking rhythm of his own. “ _Gods,_ Prompto!” 

“That’s right, Noct. Getting fucked on your future throne. What are you thinking about, huh? Imagining literally everyone in Insomnia looking at my magazine ads? What if, what if someone is jacking off to my 30-second Coleman TV spot  _right now_ ? All those girls and boys in my PixtaGram messages, the marriage proposals in the UVid comments section...doesn’t it drive you wild, Noct ? ” He teased as he felt his own pleasure building. One hand had grasped the back of the throne to steady himself, and the other was around his own cock.  He quickened the speed of his rolling hips. “What about  _y_ _ou_ , huh? I know you tear out the magazine ads and covers that feature me. They’re hanging all around your bedroom. Do you touch yourself to them when you can’t be with me, Noctis? Do you get off to a professional shot of me in running leggings? An image that’s been seen by thousands of people. You’re royalty and yet you’re just like them. How many ways do you take me in your fantasies, buddy?”  

Noctis’ hands were low on Prompto’s hips, fingers pressing into soft freckled dimples and sharp hip bones, and  _by the_ _Astrals_ , his teasing was so hot and sharp and  _k_ _nowing_ , and Noctis knew he wasn’t going to last. His eyes were clamped shut and his brow was sweaty with concentration on the tightness of Prompto and the rhythm that threatened to suck both cum and magic out of him. He choked out a sob and was about to announce his release when Prompto cut him off.  

“I love you, Noctis.” And Prompto leaned forward and caught him in a kiss as he moaned into Noctis’ mouth, bringing on his own release as he did so, spilling hot white all over the prince’s sweaty black t-shirt.  

Noctis cried into him, rasping out an “I love you too” as his balls tightened and orgasm found him, hips bucking into Prompto as the blond continued to ride him into shuddered bliss in the early hours of morning. Eventually, he had to make Prompto go still, he was too sensitive now, and his best friend collapsed onto him. Noctis wrapped him in a hug, not even caring if they were caught naked on his father’s sacred throne. He felt wetness in the crook of his neck and he realized Prompto was crying.  

“Prom, hey, what’s wrong? Did...did I hurt you? You should’ve said something, dude.” 

Prompto shook his head and looked up. “No, no, I was okay. I’m just, I’m sorry. It’s kinda happy tears, kinda sad tears?” 

Noctis chuckled. “You’re always one for having, like. Eight emotions at once.”  

“Haha, yeah.” Prompto lifted himself and Noctis came out of him, soft and sticky. “Um. We should probably go back to your room, buddy.” 

They climbed off the throne and off of each other, using their clothes to clean the throne, both of them snickering in amusement, knowing that Regis was going to have to sit on the throne at some point during the day. Noctis thought about telling one of the Glaives they passed in the hallway back to his room about the throne needing to be cleaned and polished, but he was only 18 and a half and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be that mature yet, so he didn’t. Prompto suggested a much-needed shower, and Noctis, threatening to fall asleep after the very fulfilling witching hour escapade, mumbled his agreement. The two cleaned up and put on fresh clothes and fell back into bed in a twisted, warm embrace. Prompto always seemed to sleep better when he wasn’t alone.  

 

The next week, Prompto adopted the new training regimen with Gladio, eating plan included. It had been tweaked and worked on by him, Ignis, and the Lucis family nutritionist, so Prompto did everything he could to quiet his fearful anxiety and trust them. After just a few weeks, he felt himself filling out with muscle, in a good way. His arms were bigger, and he didn’t get so winded when he had to carry heavy boxes at the photography studio. He had taken to cutting his neighborhood jog completely and ran around the Citadel grounds, now, before his scheduled weight training. Noctis rather liked this change and told him so on several occasions when he fucked him over his bed, the leggings pulled down and Prompto giggling as the prince couldn’t get enough of him.  

 

“Okay, Blondie, you’re good to go for the day,” Gladio called as Prompto did the last of a seemingly-endless repetition of squats and snatches. He was up to lifting twice his weight, now, more than enough to carry Noctis out of danger, but he vowed to keep going. Like running, endurance was his goal, and holding a few hundred pounds for ten or twenty seconds was different than having to run with the prince in his arms if need be. Prompto dropped the huge dumbbell in front of him, wiping his forehead as he bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.  

Gladio stood up from his chair and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve been doing good, kid. I’m proud of you. You’re filling out. You look good.” 

Prompto nodded. “Thanks, big guy.” He stood after a minute. “Is Noct in training right now?” 

“He and Ignis should be finishing up soon.” Gladio smiled. “But hey, I had a silly idea. And I wanted to run it by you.” 

Prompto tilted his head in confusion. “Okay? Shoot.” 

Gladio chuckled. “That’s actually what I was thinking.” 

“Huh?” 

“C’mon.” He grabbed Prompto’s shirt and drug him from the weight room to the training facility’s shooting range, where Glaives and Guards were honing their skills with various guns. Gladio took a pair of safety goggles from a hook in an empty stall, and then grabbed a standard-issue handgun. He showed Prompto how to load and unload it, and showed him the safety features.  

“Gladdy, I don’t get it. Why do you want me to shoot this? I’ve never even shot a real gun before. Just video game ones. Y’know, little plastic orange pistols and rifles at the arcade.” Prompto kind of shuddered nervously, guns of all sizes and sounds going off in the booths around him.  

“Just try it, kid.” Gladio pointed to the far-off poster of a daemon with rings and numbers around it, the numbers getting higher around the daemon’s head and chest. 

Prompto shrugged. “Well, you’ve helped me so much, I guess I owe ya.” He put the goggles on his head, loaded the side chamber as Gladio had instructed, closed one eye, and fired off the six shots in succession, pretending that it was life or death on an alien warship at the arcade with Noctis at his side.  

And he didn’t realize that all other firing and speaking had stopped as he took off his goggles and turned back to Gladio, who was staring at him, mouth hanging open. “Well, I think I got him in the head and in the heart, but he’s pretty far away. Sorry. Contacts and all, y’know. Damn nearsightedness.” 

Gladio closed his mouth in a hard line. “Prompto,” he said seriously. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Prompto squeaked. “Oh man, my bad, dude, but hey this  _was_ your idea.” Held up his hands defensively, gun dangling from long, thin fingers.  

Gladio shook his head. “We need to get you to the Marshal. Now.” 

Prompto’s eyes went wide. “You mean Cor? Gladio! Talk to me, bro. What is happening?” He stayed quiet for a second. “Hey, did everyone else leave? No one’s shooting anymore.”  

Suddenly, about eight Crownsguard and Kingsglaive heads poked in around the edge of the stall. Prompto recognized a few of them and nodded shyly. “Hey, guys. Uh.” He popped the safety on the gun and held it out. “Sorry if I’m not allowed, or whatever. Blame Gladio, it was his idea! S-sorry.” 

One woman spoke up. “You’re Prompto, right? Prince Noctis’ friend.” 

He nodded.  

“Do you just realize what happened?” 

“Uh,” said Prompto again, lowering his hand and the gun at the realization that he wasn’t in trouble for holding it. “I shot a real gun for the first time in my life?” 

The woman snorted. “Liar.” 

“Hey, no! Really. I just play arcade games all the time. And like, console FPSes. Seriously guys. Is everyone in here to tell me what a bad shot I am?” 

Gladio chuckled. “Crowe,” he said to the woman who’d engaged Prompto. “Shut it down for now. Let’s let the kid look at his target. And, someone get the Marshal in here.”  

A “cease-fire” light went on in the range and Prompto hustled behind Gladio as they walked up to the poster Prompto had aimed at. What he saw even surprised himself. He  _knew_ that he had fired all six bullets from the gun’s chamber, but he only saw two large bullet holes. Well, upon closer inspection, he could see where the bullets had overlapped each other a little, but there was one big hole in the middle of the paper daemon’s brain, and another one dead center on its heart.  

“Hey, I got him! Three shots in the head and three in the chest. That’s good, yeah? It’d be dead in real life?” 

Gladio nodded, giving Prompto a knowing grin. His life was about to change in five...four...three... 

“What’s this about an amateur crack shot?” came a voice from behind them. 

Gladio turned and gave a little salute to Cor, and Prompto shuffled halfway behind Gladio, shyly.  

“Hi! Uh, Mister Marshal Cor the Immortal. Sir.” He gulped. “Uh. Gladio asked me to shoot this gun. And I’ve never shot anything with a real gun before. And I guess I did good?” 

Cor peered around them to eye the poster and his jaw dropped slightly. “Good gods,” he breathed. He looked back at Prompto. “Have you ever considered military service, uh...” 

“Uh, Prompto! Prompto Argentum.” Prompto stuck out his hand.  

Cor took it and shook it firmly. “Hey,” he said after a minute. “I know you.” He turned to Gladio. “This is that guy from the cover of  _Athletica Now_ , and the camping gear ads. And wait, didn’t he win that half-marathon a few months ago?” He turned back to Prompto. “How are you in here again?” 

“I’m best friends with Noct. Uh, I mean. Prince Noctis. Mister Marshal Cor. Sir.” 

Cor smiled. “Just ‘Marshal’ is fine, if you please, Prompto. So. I didn’t realize that his Highness’ best friend was a minor celebrity in his own right.” 

Prompto smiled and put his head down, embarrassed. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Kind of.” 

“And modest, to boot. Well.” 

Prompto’s brain finally processed Cor’s first question. “Uh, military service? Me? Are you serious?” 

Cor folded his arms. “The situation with the Nifs isn’t getting any better, and Insomnia could use all the help it can get. So, whaddaya say?” 

Prompto’s head was spinning. He was being  _personally drafted_ by Cor Leonis and he thought he might just fall on the floor when he heard all-to familiar voice from the front of the range.  

“What! Where is he?” And Noctis locked eyes on the three men and wasted no time barreling down the aisle in front of Prompto’s shooting stall.  

“Hey buddy!” Prompto smiled, then remembered his company. “Uh, I mean, good afternoon, Prince Noctis. Your Highness. My Liege. Sir.” 

Noctis rolled his eyes. “Prompto, please.” He turned to Cor. “You let him call me whatever he wants, you got that?” 

“Yes, Highness.” Cor smiled. “It’s nice to see that you’ve made a good friend.” 

Noctis and Prompto tried and almost succeeded at not blushing. Gladio winked at Cor, who cocked an eyebrow, and Gladio mouthed “Later” at him.  

“Anyway,” Cor said turning again to Noctis. “If you’d observe Argentum’s shooting here, which he says with strong conviction is his first time shooting a real pistol, you can see the deadly accuracy. I have Glaives who’ve been here for years who aren’t this good. He's a prodigy, Noctis.” 

“Yeah you’re telling me. He always beats my ass at the arcade and at competitive rounds of FPS console games.” Noctis crossed his arms and gave an easy smile. “He’s being modest around you, Cor, but you should see him when we’re alone. He’s smug as all get-out. He knows he’s good. In fact, I’ve been thinking of bringing him here for a while.” Noctis looked at Prompto lovingly. “What do you say, dude? If I tell you I want you in my personal Crownsguard, would you say yes?” 

“Hm.” Prompto smirked at him and winked. “If I fight for you, what does that get me? Fame? Fortune? A good moral compass knowing I’m putting my life on the line for the Throne of Lucis?” 

Noctis grinned. “Active military discount at restaurants. And at the arcade, probably.” 

“Fucking  _sold,_ ” said Prompto, and all four of them laughed.  

Cor turned to Prompto and saluted, and Prompto straightened and saluted back. “Welcome to the Crownsguard, Argentum. If you follow me, we’ll get you sized up for fatigues and a standard-issue weapon. You can start regular recruit training tomorrow. And I trust you know this means that you’ll have to cease all civilian activities?” 

Prompto nodded. “Kinda figured that. It’s okay. I was getting tired of photo shoots anyway. I’d rather be behind the camera than in front of it. Being a model isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” 

“Don’t worry, Prom. You can still be a hobby photographer,” Noctis consoled him.  

“Yeah I know. Man, the boss is gonna be mad. But maybe he’ll give me the newest Loxton model as severance package.” Prompto laughed.  

 

Later that night, they sat in Prompto’s apartment, watching some old sci-fi movie, Noctis lying in Prompto’s lap as the blonde played with his hair, half-putting him to sleep. 

“Mmmmm, Prom,” Noctis whispered. 

“Yeah buddy?” Prompto was shoving plain, unflavored popcorn into his mouth, leaning forward in anticipation of the alien attack on the human exploration starship, even though he could recite this movie in his sleep.  

“You know you’re really mine, now, right?” 

Prompto looked over at the neatly folded and pressed Crownsguard uniform on the small bench in his foyer. He really belonged somewhere, now. He could wear the Lucian crest. He could carry Noctis and run for him and shoot for him. He sniffed as his eyes began to water. “Yeah, Noct. Yeah. I’m yours.”  


End file.
